Nothing To Declare
by Beloved-the-Fool
Summary: AU/AE to Secret Santa from the mind of Gillian Foster


**_Hello, all! Been on hiatus due to excessive, inhuman OT at work. The Muse dropped this quickie on me last week, though, so I thought I'd edit and post it up. See if it flies or what-have-you._**

**_This is slight AU (AE, more like) to Secret Santa._**

**_Warning: BLEAK. DEPRESSING. _**

**_Preemptive: I'm sorry._**

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><p><em>"Fear is healthy; don't forget it."<em>

_"Right you are. Bye, darling."_

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><p>I've replayed that moment a thousand times in my head. Sometimes, I just recall the press of your lips to the corner of my mouth in hasty farewell and the warm spice of your scent wafting past me in your wake. Sometimes, I taste the bitter fear that wormed its way up my gut and into the back of my throat, souring my cheeks. But mostly…mostly I think of what I might have said. What I could have said. Or should have said but for my 'healthy' fear. I could have pleaded with you not to go; it was too dangerous, and we both knew it. But to say that to you would be to ask you to be untrue to the man you are. I could have insisted on going with you. To what end? The NSA would never have approved two civilian liabilities in hostile territory. You would never have allowed it even if they had; <em>no risks where I'm concerned<em> and all that. I might have tried to lobby for some other means, any other means of working that case.

I should have told you how much you mean to me, that I love you and want you to come back home. Instead, I let you say goodbye and walk away. I chose silence. Nothing to declare.

I understand why you had to leave. I do. Two missing marines. You wouldn't walk away from that if there was any chance at all that your presence in-country could contribute to bringing them home alive. I understand that. I will always understand and respect the decision you made.

But I will always hate it.

I heard you tell Emily you'd be back in time for her Christmas party. I saw your face when you hugged her goodbye, saw the dozens of things you wished you could say to your daughter in that moment. But you held your peace. You opted for Nothing To Declare. You said, "Back soon," so we must believe that. What other choice do we have?

Did you know that I sat in my office and watched the sky that day? It was a rare clear and near-cloudless December sky over DC. Every moving speck I saw, I wondered if that was you being carried away…over my house…above the cloud line…to a foreign place, an unwelcoming and remote desert.

I wondered how long it would take.

I wondered if you would be able to keep your promise.

It was both better and worse being able to see you on screen there and to hear your voice.

Better – because I knew where you were and that for the moment, at least, you were safe.

Better – because just the sight of you and the sound of your voice were comforts in themselves, invisible connections that erased the miles and put us together in a sense.

Worse – because seeing is believing; there was no denying the peril you were facing.

Worse – because now I knew exactly what to fear.

It was no longer merely an idea of danger; this was real. It was right in front of my eyes, and it was real. It was happening.

I can still feel how my blood ran cold as we watched the feed pixelate and go dark when the explosions began. The icy knot that began in the center of my chest rapidly flowed out to my extremities, momentarily freezing me in place. I had to will my lungs to expand as the whole world seemed to slide sideways and distort. When things started going on around me and my body finally caught up, my mind followed.

It was easier not to focus on what might've happened so long as I had other things to occupy my mind: keep Emily calm, unravel the Aunt Wendy lie the Defense Department created to hide whatever was really going on over there with the asset you'd gone to question, make sure our team stayed on task. As each item was tackled and resolved, however…

At the end of the case, the only thing our office received was a check accompanied by an official memorandum thanking The Group – Dr Lightman, in particular - for our invaluable aid and stating that all in-country assets would be returning via commercial flight and citing the details.

I went to the airport on the designated night in great anticipation of your return. I didn't bring Emily with me. Maybe that was selfish, but I needed it to be just me at first.

Since 9/11, airport security no longer permits waiting at the gate, but I went as far as I could go. I waited in the terminal for international flights, just outside of Nothing To Declare. You wouldn't be bringing anything back with you, I was sure.

I got there way too early and waited for hours. Through the windows, I watched thousands of people arrive and depart. The board for Arrivals showed your flight was delayed. Of course, it was. That's December in DC for you. I dozed fitfully. It was the longest wait I can recall.

I woke and waited anxiously.

I saw the minute the Arrivals board updated with your new arrival time. I watched the dark sky give way to the pale light of dawn. With the approach of your arrival time, I picked out a speck in the clouds that I felt sure was your plane and kept my eyes on it. As the speck increased in magnitude, so did my anticipation. Before my watchful eyes, the speck took the shape of a plane. I watched you touch down and felt a wave of relief wash over me with the knowledge that you were back on terra firma, back home.

I waited for you, right there just outside Nothing To Declare. It took a while for people to begin to filter through. I was tired, but a smile lit my face. I scanned the intermittent stream of people, searching for your face. Two soldiers came through, met my eye briefly and then moved beyond me. Soon, the stream slowed to a trickle. Then it stopped altogether. I didn't understand. I pulled out my phone to double-check that I had the flight details correct. I did.

So then, where were you? Had you been detained in Customs? Had you missed the flight?

No e-mails.

No text messages.

Surely, if you'd missed the flight, you would have let me know by now.

Had they detained you for a debriefing, maybe?

A dozen possibilities were running through my mind, and I was just about to start an e-mail to Komisky when someone touched my elbow. I startled but looked up with a big grin. I expected it to be you.

I didn't expect it to be some very polished, official-looking man asking me if we could go someplace less public to speak. And right then, I knew.

Standing right there just outside of Nothing To Declare, his face told me everything. I didn't need to go anywhere with him and hear the words he'd say. I knew.

He wanted to tell me that your work facilitated the rescue of those two marines I saw but that you had been beyond rescue yourself. He wanted to tell me how much your service meant to those men and to their families and to this country. But mostly what he had to tell me was that – unlike them – you hadn't come home.

And you never would again.

That's what he wanted to tell me, right there, just outside of Nothing To Declare.


End file.
